The Temptation of Dana Scully
by R. Franke
Summary: Why was Dana Scully assigned to the X-Files? REVISED Version


TITLE: The Temptation of Dana Scully

AUTHOR: R. Franke

E-MAIL: **RFrankeUS@yahoo.com**

RATING: PG-13

CLASSIFICATION: Scully Angst, Pre X-Files

SPOILERS: Pilot

SUMMARY: Why was Dana Scully assigned to the X-Files?

DISCLAIMER: Dana Scully, et al, are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, the Fox Network, the actors, writers, and all other persons or legal entities known or unknown with a lawful claim upon the characters. Eddie Munster and Monty Python's Dead Parrot Sketch are the property of whichever persons, corporations, or legal entities have a lawful claim upon them. All characters unique to this story are the property of R. Franke. This story is a work of fan fiction, written for the purpose of personal satisfaction and the enjoyment of others, and monetary or other compensation is neither expected nor desired.

ARCHIVE: Permission is given to archive this story, provided it is archived without alteration, including this disclaimer and copyright notice, and the author is contacted at **RFrankeUS@yahoo.com**

COPYRIGHT 2001 by R. Franke

AUTHOR'S NOTE: There is an earlier version of this floating around out there on the web somewhere. Listen to your instincts when they tell you a story isn't ready, even if it does have a beginning and an end. The middle's important too.

****

THE TEMPTATION OF DANA SCULLY

The young men and women filling the operating theater studiously ignored the older gentleman sitting silently at the desk next to the door. The rapid drumming of well-manicured fingernails was the only sign of the man's growing impatience as his gaze swept over the semi-circle of desks in front of him, coming to rest once again on the sheet-covered form lying on the table at the front of the auditorium.

A dark-haired young man seated near the front stood up. "I don't think this Scully guy's gonna show. It's been almost fifteen minutes."

"You gonna to teach us instead, Wilkins?" a voice called from across the room.

"Nah, I wouldn't want to take away from Stan the Stiff's moment of glory here," Wilkins drawled to general, if slightly nervous, laughter. "Besides which, Pendrell here's the science geek, not me," he added as he sat back down.

"I'll stick with test tubes and Bunsen burners, thanks," Pendrell answered. "Cutting up dead bodies is just plain creepy." He shuddered. "I can't imagine what kind of person would even want to do that sort of thing."

"What do you think he's like?" another voice asked.

"Who? The professor?"

"No, dumbass, I meant Stan. Of course, the professor."

"Probably looks like a sixty-year old Eddie Munster," a woman's voice suggested to more laughter.

"This, ladies and gentlemen, is a dead body," came from another young man doing a passable imitation of Peter Lorre. "That is to say, a body that is dead."

"He's not dead, he's just pining for the fjords."

"He's not pining, he's passed on. He has ceased to be. Bereft of life, he has rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible."

"Hell of a big parrot."

In the general laughter that followed, the gentleman at the back of the room was the only one who noticed the auburn-haired young woman stand up from a desk at the side of the room and walk onstage. "Thomas Boyer," she announced, flicking the sheet from the body with a practiced motion, "died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound at the age of forty-two. He is survived by Karen, his wife of almost twenty years and their daughters Megan and Julie, ages seventeen and thirteen. Every single corpse you will see in your careers, ladies and gentlemen," she continued, icy blue eyes sweeping across her chastened audience, "whether the victim of malice, accident, or simply of natural causes, was once someone's spouse, someone's sibling, someone's parent, someone's child. They, and the loved ones who survive them, deserve no less than your utmost consideration and respect for their loss. And if there are no loved ones," she added softly, "then the deceased deserves your consideration even more.

"As you may have gathered by now," she continued briskly, folding the sheet neatly and placing it on the counter running the length of the back wall, "I am Dr. Scully and this is Basic Autopsy Procedure for Law Enforcement Officers."

The gentleman with the well-manicured fingernails slipped out of the room when Dr. Scully summoned her students to the operating table.

"Well?" a voice rasped behind him.

He cast a disdainful glance at the cigarette dangling from his interrogator's lips. "I still question the wisdom of this course of action. Dr. Scully is noticeably more intelligent, and more observant, than any of Agent Mulder's previous partners."

"True," his cigarette-smoking companion conceded as they walked down the corridor. "Her having gained this position at such a young age is indication enough of that." Thin lips curled in an approximation of a smile. "As do her discoveries in, for example, the Burroughs case, among others."

"Hollister is a fool resting on twenty year old laurels," he replied calmly, one hand smoothing his already impeccable hair. "We both have had to curtail certain activities due to this young lady's scientific acumen."

"Only temporarily. And Hollister is a useful fool, if only for his position. We can allow him his petty little games."

His mouth twisted with distaste. "True."

His companion took another drag on his cigarette. "Miss Scully is intelligent and ambitious, if a bit impatient and overly rigid in her views of right and wrong. With the proper guidance, she could become quite useful to the Project. In one capacity or another."

Manicured eyebrows rose as they walked out of the main doors. "I believe that's what you said about Mulder."

"Mulder will come around," his companion replied, dropping the cigarette to the sidewalk and crushing it out with his foot as he lit another. "He's still learning how the real world operates. Once he does, I expect him to become quite the player." Two long, black limousines pulled up in front of them. "In the meantime, their opposing philosophies will ensure that most of their time will be spent arguing with each other, rather than investigating anything of substance." The two men separated, heading for their cars. 

"I suspect events will turn out to be nowhere near as formulaic as those stories you write, my cinerous friend," he murmured as his driver held the door for him. "Nowhere near."

"Eleven minutes, forty-two seconds," Dana Scully announced as she entered the office and set her case on her desk.

"A record," her officemate replied, widening her eyes in mock surprise. "Stan the Stiff again?"

"Of course," Dana answered as she sat down opposite her companion. "Not to mention Eddie Munster, Peter Lorre, and Monty Python's Dead Parrot Sketch."

"Three separate allusions? I'm impressed."

Dana picked up the interoffice envelope lying on her desk and opened it, pulling out the single sheet inside. "Section Chief Blevins wants to see me in the morning," she commented, raising her eyebrow.

"Maybe you're finally getting that field assignment you've been pestering everyone about."

"Firmly," Dana began.

"And repeatedly."

"-requesting," Dana finished.

"As I said, pestering," the older woman answered with a smile.

"Rose," Dana glowered for a moment, then her face broke into a smile. "Do you really think so?"

"I-" Rose hesitated.

Dana's eyebrow rose. "What?"

Rose shook her head. "It's probably nothing. Just a rumor. You know how these things are."

Dana's eyes narrowed. "Rose-"

"Spooky Mulder," Rose blurted. "Word is they're looking for a new partner for him. Again. And you're on the short list."

"Mulder?" Dana tilted her head slightly. "Monty Props? That Mulder?" Rose nodded. "They want me for Violent Crimes?" Her voice rose excitedly. "Me?"

"Not exactly," Rose grimaced. "Mulder, well, he sort of, well, he was one of Patterson's, and well," she shrugged.

"Are you saying he cracked?" Dana asked. "I've heard some of the stories, Ackerman and-"

Rose shook her head. "Mulder was one of the smart ones. He saw what happened to Ackerman and the others, and got out before Patterson broke him as well. He spends his time now investigating UFOs, and ghosts, and- and that sort of thing."

Dana snorted and shook her head. "Right."

"I'm serious, Dana."

"UFOs? Ghosts? Things that go bump in the night? Why on Earth would anybody waste Bureau resources looking for things that simply do not exist? Who would even authorize something like that? And why?"

"Mulder's father was a bigwig over at State. So was his father, and maybe even a generation or two further back as well, I don't know. What I do know is that Mulder has connections to some very powerful people, both in Foggy Bottom and on the Hill."

Dana's mouth twisted in a grimace. "The old boys network strikes again." Rose answered with a sympathetic look as Dana blew out her breath with a huff. "AD Hollister is probably jumping for joy right about now." Dana looked down at her hands. "When I joined the FBI, when Dr. Hollister recruited me for the FBI," she corrected herself, "I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to help people, in a way that no one else could. I thought that's what he wanted too."

Rose reached across the desktops and patted Dana's arm. "Carl isn't a bad man, Dana. He just," she paused, obviously searching for the right words.

Dana shook her head. "Don't, Rose. I know how you feel about him, but just- don't."

Rose looked away. "It's not like that. Not like everyone thinks." She turned back to look at Dana. "Sometimes people have to do things, things they'd-"

The shrill ring of Dana's telephone interrupted. "Dana Scully." She listened for a moment, then replied. "Yes, thank you, I'll be down in a moment. That was Officer White at the main desk," she continued as she hung up. "A package for me, one that apparently can't be entrusted to the mailroom."

"You'd better go," Rose replied, standing up and going over to the filing cabinet standing against the far wall. "You told him you'd be right down." She watched from the corner of her eye as Dana left their office, then went back to her desk, picked up the telephone and dialed. "She's been told about Mulder, and the X-Files."

Dana's eyebrow rose as she spotted the small silver tray on the counter. A single long-stemmed red rose rested on it, along with a square of Belgian dark chocolate flavored with Seville oranges and a folded note with her name written in elegant cursive on the outside. She reached out and unfolded the note. _I'm sorry. E_ she read.

"So, Doc, does the poor guy get to live?" Officer White asked, smiling broadly and trading a knowing glance with his companion, who just shook his head slightly.

Dana's head shot up and her eyes narrowed. "You read the note, Officer White?"

White swallowed heavily as his smile died. "No, ma'am, it's just that when he left it he said he'd screwed up big time, that's all," the security guard answered quickly, almost stumbling over his words in his haste. "That's all, Dr. Scully, I swear."

"I've decided to reconsider my original plan of performing his autopsy prior to his decease," Dana responded coolly. "Good day, Officer Hambly." She nodded politely and headed for the elevator, the tray and its contents in her hand.

"Told you man," Hambly commented after the doors had shut behind Dana. "Get on her bad side and Red'll serve you your balls on a goddamn plate."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Rose," Dana began as she entered the office, falling silent as she realized the older woman had left. She placed the gifts on her desk.

"Hey, Doc."

Dana turned. "Agent Colton. I was just about to go downstairs and perform the autopsy on Laura Shipplett."

"I'm glad I caught you then," Colton replied. "Dover PD have the guy and he's singing like a canary. It's all over now but the paperwork." He leaned back, looking up and down the hall melodramatically. "The coast is clear, Dr. Scully."

He straightened back up and grinned at her. "Nobody to report such a shocking breach of protocol as using a fellow agent's first name."

Dana smiled. "All right, Tom." Her smile died. "Was Laura the last one?"

Colton shook his head. "He had another one in the trunk. Little boy this time. Last I heard they were still trying to identify him."

Dana closed her eyes briefly. "God," she breathed, half prayer, half curse. "Seventeen little girls and boys." Dana shook herself. "I'll hold off on the autopsy until I hear from the DA. Maybe we can send Laura back to her parents…" Dana's voice trailed off.

"Yeah, that'd be good." Colton cleared his throat. "Listen, Dana, Palansky listens to me. I'll make sure he mentions you in his report to AD Skinner. Maybe it'll help you in this thing with Hollister."

"Assistant Director Hollister has had a long and distinguished career with the Bureau," Dana replied. "A few minor incidences, items that could easily have been overlooked by anyone, shouldn't change that." She sighed. "If everyone would just leave it alone, everything will blow over eventually."

Colton shook his head slowly. "You, Dr. Scully, are a brilliant scientist. But you have all the political instincts of a two year old."

Dana's eyebrow rose. "Political instincts?"

"You made Hollister look like an idiot in front of the entire FBI. The Director publicly reprimanded him. It's not going to 'blow over' as you put it, anytime soon."

"I was trying to solve a murder," Dana replied heatedly. "Isn't that what we're here for?"

"Men like Hollister have tremendous egos," Colton replied calmly. "And they control our futures in the FBI. Find a friend, Dana. A patron, if you will. Cause if you don't, they'll shuffle you off to some basement lab somewhere."

"I have to play the game, is that what you're telling me, Tom?" Dana challenged.

Colton shrugged. "It's how the world works." He looked at his watch. "Listen, Dana, I need to go. We'll talk later, okay?"

"Sure, fine," Dana replied as she sank down into her chair, waving a negligent hand at Colton's retreating back. She picked up the rose and twirled it idly between her fingers. "Who the hell cares anyway? It's not as if we're supposed to solve crimes or anything like that, is it now?" She shook her head. "God, I sound like Aunt Olive." Dana set the rose down and broke off a piece of chocolate. She leaned back in her chair, savoring the bitter taste of the dark chocolate mixed with the sweetly acidic tang of the orange. She grinned to herself suddenly and stood, grabbing her coat and striding determinedly out of the office.

"She's a good kid, Carl. She doesn't deserve this."

Carl Hollister's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Do any of us?" He sighed and ran his fingers through what was left of his hair. "We need her, Rose. She's a hell of a scientist, and she's got the potential to be one hell of an investigator as well. We need her abilities if we're going to get the Project back on track. Back with the right people in charge."

"Are we the right people?"

"Are they?"

"Scott Blevins thinks Mulder is salvageable," Rose continued a moment later. "Maybe we should bring him in. And Dana. Now. Let them know what's really at stake."

"Have you forgotten what happened to Eddie? What Bill Mulder did to him?"

"Eddie was my fiancé, Carl," Rose replied evenly. "Do you think I could ever forget?"

Hollister bowed his head slightly. "You're right. That was uncalled for. I apologize."

"It was," Rose answered. "But true, none the less." She sighed. "Like father, like son, I suppose. We'd never be able to trust him." She straightened in her chair and looked levelly at Hollister. "We need the X-Files open and active. And not just on paper. If we're going to take," her mouth twisted with distaste, "them on, we'll have to attack on as many points as possible."

"We need the X-Files," Hollister conceded. "But not with Fox Mulder in charge. That nicotine-stained bastard's bought and paid for him already."

"We don't know that for certain."

Hollister waved away her objection. "Can you come up with a better explanation?" He leaned forward. "He's invested a lot in Mulder. If Dana Scully can break him…" Hollister let his voice trail off suggestively. 

Rose sat silently. "What if Mulder breaks her?" she asked finally.

"Better we find out now." He leaned back in his chair and smiled. "My money's on the redhead, though."

"We've burned too many bridges, Carl. Both in finding her and in bringing her into the FBI the way we did. If she does break, we'll go down with her."

"And if we do nothing? What then?" Hollister leaned forward again. "We need the X-Files, Rose. They're the best hope we have for exposing that bastard and his cronies for what they really are. Especially that oh-so-tailored English bastard. We need the X-Files," he repeated. "And we need Dana Scully in charge of them."

"Dana, wait. I can explain," Ethan Minnette pleaded as he hurriedly pulled on his pants.

Dana ignored the woman scurrying out of Ethan's studio, clothes clutched to her chest. She removed a key from her ring and placed it on the nearest flat surface. "I'll pack up whatever things you have at my place," she said calmly. "Drop them off in the next day or two."

Ethan reached out. "Dana, please. I'm-"

"Don't," she hissed, eyes blazing. 

Ethan let his hand drop as she turned away. "Goddamnit it, Dana, I'm not you. I have feelings, needs. I can't just turn them off like some damned machine."

"Needs?" Dana replied icily as she turned to look at him, her features a mask of contempt. "Buy a magazine, Ethan. It's cheaper, and you won't have to worry about catching anything."

"Have a pleasant evening, Dr. Goodrich, Dr. Hollister." He nodded politely and stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, lighting another as he turned and walked away.

Hollister's hand came up as soon as the door to his office had closed, scrabbling weakly at his jacket. Rose sprang up from her chair and reached into his pocket, removing a small prescription bottle and unscrewing the cap. She shook two pills out into her hand and pressed them into Hollister's mouth. Hollister swallowed heavily and slumped back in his chair, his eyes closing with relief. "Son of a bitch smokes a dozen packs a day," he rasped weakly. "And he's healthier than a goddamn horse."

"You're not going to be able to hide this forever," Rose replied angrily. "Damn it, Carl-" she swiped at her cheek.

"Hey, hey, none of that now," Hollister chided, brushing her cheek with his fingers. "I fully intend to see that bastard firmly planted in the deepest Hell there is. So you see, I have to stick around, at least for a bit."

Rose gave a tremulous smile. "I'll make sure of that," she promised. "If nothing else, Eddie taught me how to shoot that damn Tennessee 5-0 of his," she added with a shaky laugh.

"Dana, it's Mom. Call me as soon as you get this. It's important." Dana pressed the rewind button on her answering machine and picked up the phone, dialing her parents' number. "Scully," a gruff voice answered.

"Dad, it's me," Dana answered. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Tara had a miscarriage," William Scully reported succinctly.

"What's her condition?"

"She's in Seattle General right now. Your mother insists on flying out there, so I thought I had better accompany her." He paused. "Your brother didn't give us any details, but her doctors don't expect her to have any problems. Any more problems," he corrected himself.

"When does your flight leave?"

"1900 hours. Your mother's already in the car."

"Call me as soon as you get there," Dana requested. "Has anyone talked to her father?" she continued.

Captain Scully did not bother to hide the contempt in his voice. "Mr. Robinson has a very important board meeting. He'll try to make it out next week, if he can free up his schedule."

"An important board meeting." Dana shook her head. "Tell Billy to call me if he needs anything. Tara too."

"I will. We need to get going, Dana. I'll call you when we get there."

"Dad?"

"Yes, Dana?"

"I-" Dana hesitated. "Never mind, it's not important. I'll talk to you later."

"Have you read her thesis? _Einstein's Twin Paradox: A New Interpretation_?" One manicured finger stabbed at the pile of paper. "Or anything else she's written?"

"Yes, I did." A deep, throaty chuckle came from the other man in the room. "I have to admit though, I was pretty much lost after the first page."

"And that doesn't concern you? Any of this? My God Ro-"

"Not here, damn it," the other man snapped. "Jesus Christ, you know better than that."

"My apologies," he snarled, "but we are talking about one of the greatest minds of this century, of any century, and this woman has the intelligence and the- the-"

"Moxie?" the other man suggested.

"Precisely." One manicured hand rose to smooth impeccable hair. "This woman is far too dangerous to our plans."

"That depends on what exactly our plans may be."

The smoothing hand stopped as manicured eyebrows rose. "Indeed?" His eyes flicked to the _No Smoking_ sign on the wall. "May I assume you selected this room deliberately?"

"Dana?"

Dana looked up to see Rose standing in the doorway of their office. "Congratulate me, Rose," she replied. "I'm a field agent now." She placed one last item in the box on her desk and closed the lid. "Special Agent Dr. Dana Katherine Scully, MD. Spooky Mulder's partner du jour."

"When do you start?"

"Tomorrow. They're giving my classes to some professor on sabbatical from UVA. I suspect Assistant Director Hollister did not wish to waste any time."

"I don't-"

"He was there, Rose. Just gloating. He could barely contain himself."

"Dana, sit down."

"I don't-"

"I said, sit." Rose waited until Dana sat down, arms folded across her chest. "Now then," the older woman continued. "Why do you think you were given this assignment?"

"Fox Mulder has gone through eight partners within the past twenty-two months," Dana replied. "Three of them were assigned to the X-Files just prior to retirement, after amazingly undistinguished careers I might add, the others after being censured by OPR for a variety of infractions. Of those, three have since separated from the FBI. The X-Files are a sinecure for Agent Mulder," she spat. "And a convenient punishment for anyone else," she continued as her shoulders slumped. "Have you read any of his reports? They read like science fiction. And bad science fiction at that." She gave a small laugh. "For someone who supposedly graduated from Oxford, well, let's just say my ninth grade English Composition teacher would just about have a conniption at what Fox Mulder does to the English language."

"Not everyone spends three hours trying to make their reports absolutely perfect, Dana." Rose answered. She peered sharply at Dana. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

Dana's chin rose. "I'm fine."

"Which means, not any," Rose replied. She sighed. "I know, I know. You're fine." She looked down at her hands for a moment, then back up at the other woman. "Dana, Agent Mulder was a good investigator once. Maybe you can somehow, I don't know, learn something somehow and," she fluttered her hands helplessly, "I'm not saying this right, but he was Behavioral's fair-haired boy, and not just because of his connections."

"Do you know what they want me to do, Rose?" Dana asked as she stood. "Conduct a proper scientific analysis on the validity of the X-Files project." she recited.

"That doesn't sound so bad," Rose replied. "In fact, it could be a very good thing, if the right people read your report."

"The problem is," Dana answered as she lifted her box from the desk. "I'm much better at games like Monopoly." She smiled faintly. "And my sister always won those." She settled the box in her arms and strode over to the door. "I'll um, I'll see you around." She nodded to Rose and turned away, striding determinedly down the corridor.

"Good luck, Dana," Rose called after her. She waited until the younger woman had turned the corner, then picked up her telephone. "We may have a problem." She listened for a moment. "She could also say the hell with it and go off and be a doctor somewhere," Rose snapped in reply. "She's not us, Carl. She at least has options."

"Building, morgue, Path Lab, Lecture Hall 106 and your office," White recited, marking each key off his list as he did so. "Did you at any time make or have made duplicates of these keys?"

"No, I did not," Dana replied.

"Sign here please, Dr. Scully," White continued, laying the clipboard on the counter and handing Dana a pen. "And here. And initial here." Dana signed the forms and handed them back to White, then turned and picked up her box. "Um, Dr. Scully?"

Dana turned back, one eyebrow arched. "Yes?"

"What I said before, about, I mean, I didn't mean to sound disrespectful or nothing, it was just," he shrugged his shoulders, "well I," White cleared his throat. "I hope everything works out all right for you, Doc. Things, things just won't be the same around here."

Dana smiled. "Thank you, Officer- thank you, Bob," she corrected herself.

Bob watched as Dana walked away. "Hope that guy knows what the hell he's got," he said to no one in particular.

The first thing Dana did when she got home was to kick off her heels and pull a bottle of dark rum out of one of her kitchen cabinets. She poured a healthy swig into a tumbler and downed it in one swallow. She shuddered and poured herself a second glass, leaving the cap sitting on the countertop beside the bottle. She wandered over to her answering machine after that, taking a sip from her glass as the tape rewound. "Dana-" The first voice on the tape was Ethan's.

"Prick," she muttered, finger stabbing downwards. The next two messages were from Ethan as well, and she deleted them as soon as she recognized his voice.

"Doctor Scully." Dana's eyebrow rose as the voice of Hollister's administrative assistant came from her machine. "The Assistant Director would like to see you tomorrow morning at 7:30, in his office." She heard her mother's voice informing her that her sister-in-law was expected to make a full recovery, at least physically, and deleted another message from Ethan before the answering machine gave a final beep and started automatically rewinding to the beginning of the tape.

"Did I forget to cross an I or dot a Goddamned T, Mr. Assistant Director, sir?" Dana muttered as she went back into the kitchen, noting with some surprise that her glass was empty again. She started to pour herself another glass, then stopped, setting the bottle back on the counter with a sigh. "That's probably how Uncle Jimmy started, Dana," she told herself. "And Grandmother O'Hanrahan." She gave a mocking snort as she lifted the bottle and poured herself another glass. "Medicinal purposes." Screwing the cap back on, she opened the cabinet door and shoved the bottle as far back as she could.

"Sir," Hollister's administrative assistant spoke into the intercom on her desk. "Dr. Scully is here." Dana wasn't able to hear the reply, but the woman motioned her towards Hollister's door, saying, "The Assistant Director will see you now."

Dana opened the door and went through, coming to a halt in front of Hollister's massive oak desk, her back ramrod-straight as she asked, "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Hollister looked up and indicated a small pile of papers with his pen. "You failed to properly fill out forms 32B, 4-108, and AQ225, Agent Scully. Make the necessary corrections and return them to my secretary by four p.m. this afternoon."

Dana looked down at the papers. A keyring with the keys to the Forensic Sciences Building, the Pathology Lab, and the morgue rested on top. Dana raised her eyes to see Hollister had already returned to his work. "Sir," she began.

"That will be all, Agent," Hollister replied, not looking up from his desk. "Dismissed."

"Yes sir," Dana answered, slipping the keys into her pocket as she picked up the forms and departed. 

Dana eyed the mass of people waiting for an ascending elevator as the doors slid shut, leaving her the only person in the car. "Everybody does it, Dana," she murmured softly to herself, pulling the three keys out of her pocket and examining them as the elevator began its descent. "Just play the game. You can't do any good if you're stuck down there in the basement." She shoved the keys back into her pocket as the doors opened and strode down the corridor, past dusty filing cabinets and outmoded office machinery.

Dana stopped in front of a door labeled _X-Files Department_. Under that, a small plaque announced _Special Agent F. Mulder_. She sighed and closed her eyes. "It's just the way the world works, Dana." She looked down at herself, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle out of her suit. Her fingers brushed the small gold cross hanging from her neck, then went back and grasped it tightly. Dana took a deep breath. "But what shall it profit a man," she murmured softly.

Scully felt her spine straighten as she dropped the cross and knocked on the door. 

"No-one here but the FBI's most unwanted."

****

FINIS

AUTHOR'S NOTE: For those readers unfamiliar with the Christian Bible, Dana's final words are taken from the New Testament Book of Mark, Chapter 8, Verse 36: "But what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, but loses his own soul?"

Comments? Questions? Opinions? RFrankeUS@yahoo.com


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